


Silence

by wallywesticle



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sad, Tumblr Prompt, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallywesticle/pseuds/wallywesticle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence.<br/>Such a small word with a big meaning. For Tim, it means more than its definition. It’s what he lives in, what he’s drowning in. The quiet. Painful, loud, excruciating silence. It screams at him, bursts his eardrums, causes him to cave in on himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> On my Tim Drake RP blog, I got asked 'Dick or Conner--you can't choose both, one must die, and you can't kill yourself'. This is the drabble I wrote based off the question.

He hasn’t spoken. He hasn’t talked. He hasn’t chattered.

Silence.

Such a small word with a big meaning. For Tim, it means more than its definition. It’s what he lives in, what he’s drowning in. The quiet. Painful, loud, excruciating silence. It screams at him, bursts his eardrums, causes him to cave in on himself.

‘I‘m sorry,’ he wants to say. No one is there to hear it, however. If Dick were here ( _still alive_ ), he‘d say it to him. That is whom he is sorry, after all. Had Tim thought better- faster- this wouldn’t be his reality.

No, he’s still living in silence.

Tim made sure to cast everyone out of his life. He returned home and refused to look at anyone. No words formed sentences. No questions were answered. Only quiet. Always quiet.

Bruce was upset. Outwardly and completely. Alfred had to take time off that day to reevaluate it all, to understand that Dick wasn’t coming back.

And then there was Wally.

Wally had come around plenty of times, shared stories with Alfred, even made Bruce smile. Tim had briefly come out of his room to apologize to the redhead only to feel guilt welling up in his chest and closing up his throat. It choked him. It took all of his breath away, and the moment he caught Wally’s eye, he ran for the dark sanctuary of his room. He didn’t say anything, yet he knew he had done everything wrong. It was just another burden to carry- another bad decision.

That’s what his whole life has been, hasn’t it? Bad decision after bad decision. Killing his brother was the worst. Dick Grayson’s blood was on his hands, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

_Your choice, fuck up, either Nightwing or Superboy. You don’t get both._

No, of course he wouldn’t get both. How was he even to save both? Conner was weak, nearly drowning in a bath of kryptonite. Dick was beaten and chained. God, how he wanted to save them both so bad. He offered his own life, but it was rejected. No, doing that would get them both killed.

Tim tries to tell himself not to think about it, not to imagine the scene any longer. He doesn’t listen to himself, and the panic builds in his chest, bubbles in his throat, and for the first time since his brother **_died_** , he’s sobbing. His shoulders quake and a scream rips through his throat. No more silence, no more quiet.

Bruce is in his room far too soon, and the boy pushes at him when he gets close. He’s trying to help, and Tim pushes him away just like he had done everyone else. Just like he had done to Conner.

Conner.

He had fucked that one up, hadn’t he? After the incident, Tim didn’t speak to him. He should have, and he’s reprimanded himself for it everyday, but he didn’t. It was quiet- **silence** \- he gave to Conner and he’s never regretted a decision more in his life.

Bruce keeps trying to comfort his son, keeps trying to calm him down, but Tim’s far too gone to be coaxed out by someone so closed off. He leaves and the sound of Alfred talking on the phone becomes far too loud. Tim’s breathing is rapid, and his voice is hoarse and heavy. His screaming has subsided, yet the tears have not, and his chest is heaving with every gasping breath he takes in. The door to his room opens, and he’s scared it’s Bruce once again. He shouldn’t be, no, but he can’t face his father, not after what he did.

“Tim, Alfred called me. He said you’re having a panic attack.” It’s not Bruce, that’s for sure, and the whimper that escapes Tim worries himself. Conner shouldn’t have come here. They hadn’t spoken to each other in three weeks.

This wasn’t the circumstance that should bring them together. This was stupid, ridiculous, wrong, and yet, for whatever reason, Tim’s flung himself on to Conner, latched on tight with no intentions of letting go. No, not this time.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he cries. He is. He’s sorry for everything, for hurting everyone, for being the **_fuck up_** the villain told him he was. Tim can’t calm himself, and there isn’t much Conner can do right now except for listen and hold him tight.

Tim’s crying for it all. The memory, the look on Dick’s face, the betrayal Tim believed his brother felt. Everything was wrong, and everything was his fault.

“H-He told me- I always listen to what Dick tells me to do, and I-” _couldn’t disobey him._ The words are lost in his throat and a cracked sob takes their place. Dick had told Tim to choose Conner, told him everything would be okay, smiled at him. And Tim did what was expected of him and caused a fight with his best friend.

“Shh,” Superboy’s voice is soft, comforting, “I get it, okay? I get it. It’s not your fault, Tim, you did exactly what Dick wanted, and you know he’s proud of you.” Tim sniffles, shakes his head. It was his fault, but he had done what his brother asked, and he supposes Conner’s right. Dick is proud of him.

“I’m sorry this is how we start talking again to one another,” he breathes, closing his eyes and letting himself be coaxed back into sanity. He’s not okay, no, but he’s _better_. The crushing silence is lifting slowly, gradually, and for the first time in weeks, Tim knows he’s made the right decision.


End file.
